


The Queer Chronicles

by SapphireSnapdragon69



Category: Adventure - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Fantasy - Fandom, OC - Fandom, Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Queer Character, Comedy, D&D, Drama, Drama & Romance, Family Drama, Fantasy, Friendship, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, Long, Lost Love, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Nonbinary Character, OC, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Panic Attacks, Pathfinder - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Character, Queer Themes, companion - Freeform, light fluff, mental health, mob boss, spells, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSnapdragon69/pseuds/SapphireSnapdragon69
Summary: Brinn and Storm, by the book and by the sword. The story of two (not quite) friends on their journey to understanding themselves and each other, mostly for the better. Oh, and someone else (actually, quite a few people). Will they save the day? What’s behind Storm’s troubled eyes? Will they find a way out of the corrupt and crime infested city? It’s all inside Queer Chronicles.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Once upon a time, there was a child. Born in the wagon of a traveling show, it was named Storm. This child surely brought a storm wherever they went.  _

 

“But Brinnnnnnn,” Storm whined.

“We need to make it to Lunaris by nightfall,” Brinn announced for the hundredth time. Her horse trotted irritably several paces in front of Storm’s. 

“I’m hungryyy.” Storm’s androgynous form slumped in the saddle. She ran her fingers through her hair,  dramatically letting it fall to cover her face. “I’m tired and my legs hurt and we’ve been riding all day.”

Brinn rolled her eyes and adjusted her long, auburn braid. For being a year younger, she was much more mature than her traveling companion. 

Sighing, she explained, “We’ve been riding all day because you wouldn’t get up early. Your legs hurt because you never show up to equestrian classes And....” She paused, rummaging in her saddle bag.

Gently, she pulled back the reigns until she was alongside Storm. Extending her hand, Brinn held out an apple. Storm’s shiny, black hair parted long enough to reveal the smile on her face as she grasped the apple with long, slender fingers. As the apple left Brinn’s hand, Storm’s body shifted in her saddle. Wrapping an arm around Brinn, she hugged her.

“Thanks,” she cooed.

The blood rushed to Brinn’s cheeks. Her mind felt slowed, desperately trying to process this, like a horse struggling to free itself from a quagmire. Seconds felt like minutes. Brinn’s lungs snapped into action as she took a shaky breath. Storm’s body recoiled. 

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

Brinn’s mind whirred and she gave a slight giggle,”I didn’t know you could be nice. Or have feelings. Wait, no,” She stammered.”I...I mean. You know. With the...the…”

“Rumors,” Storm’s voice answered, hollow, “Gambling. Black magic. Murder. I’ve heard it all.” A cold, awkward silence hung in the air. Storm started, “I bet they set you up to this. My stupid “adoptive father”, probably. And my fake moth-” 

“I chose to be here,” Brinn said, her voice firm yet quiet. 

“Why?”

Brinn’s green eyes began to dance. “Well, it’s not everyday you get the chance to go on an adventure.”

Storm gave a bark of laughter, saying, “An adventure? That’s what you think this is? Adventures are for the big, strong heroes who go on long voyages, defeating monsters and collecting loot. We are just traveling a day away to escort a duchess.”

“Well, you should have told my mothers that. They didn’t want me to go. But I’d do anything to get out of sleepy little Keiran Village.”

“Oh little adventurer! Mischief maker! Rabble rouser! How do you adventure while taking all the classes the village has to offer?” Storm jeered sarcastically with a sly smirk on her face. 

“And what do you do since you don’t take any?” giggling, Brinn asked in reply. 

“Adventure!” Storm exclaimed as Brinn’s mouth opened and stifled giggles escaped. Storm’s smirk transformed into a wide grin. A strange, high pitched, gasping noise burst from her. Finding this hilarious, Brinn’s giggle became a laughing fit.

 

The howls of laughter eventually quieted as they wiped the tears from their eyes. 

“Well,” Storm paused, hiccuping, “What’s the plan, Stan?”

Brinn giggled once more. “I’m not Stan, but I have the plan.” She leaned over to search her saddle bag. Peering in, her face when white. “I’ve forgotten it,” she muttered. 

“Forgotten what?” 

“My knife. It was a gift.” 

Storm gave a sheepish grin. “You didn’t forget it.”

“What?” Brinn asked, bemused. She glanced at Storm and saw the polished silver peeking out from the sleeve of her purple coat. 

“You little thief!”Brinn shouted, yet she was smiling. “When did you…?”

“Well, I thought it would look nice in my collection and we had started off on the wrong foot.”

“Maybe because you were complaining,” Brinn sneered.

“Yeah. True. Maybe I was just testing you. Anyway,” she flipped the knife out to Brinn, “You got the task notice from Ushka, right? What does the adventuring guildmaster want us to do?”

Brinn mumbled a sarcastic thank you as she collected her knife. After rummaging through her bag once more and extracting a roll of parchment, she carefully unfurled it.

She read aloud, “Escort Duchess Bellen from Lunaris to Astrakane safety. Reward: 3 Gold,” she paused, then asked, “How dangerous do you think it will be?”

Storm shrugged and smirked. “I think the better question is ‘who gets the last coin?’”

“We’ll have to figure it out when we have them.”

“Fine, fine.” She squinted into the distance.

Brinn shielded her eyes as she asked, “Is that it?” 

“Must be. I’ve only been there once.”

They rode for a time and watched as the city grew from a mere bump into tall walls which several towers peered over, adding needed variation to the skyline. Townspeople came into view as they finished early evening chores.


	2. Chapter 2

Storm munched seriously as they approached the city. She pulled her purple coat tighter around her, flexed her legs, and contemplated; not about adventures, equestrian lessons, or dinner. Her mind was brimming as it kept replaying what she said: “I’ve only been there once.”   _When had lying become second nature?_ She shook herself and bowed her head. A small breeze had developed, which took the edge off the late summer heat.

The road had changed from path to cobbled long ago, although neither Storm nor Brinn had noticed. Storm stopped when she arrived at the edge of the city. A large arch stood there, proclaiming the city’s name: Lunaris. She slowly rode up to it and ran her hand along the  intricately engraved moons and stars, wishing to be anywhere else.

“This arch is so detailed. It’s craftsmanship is breathtaking,” Storm told Brinn.

The arch was literally breathtaking; Storm jumped as she heard the sound of a sudden inhale come from Brinn, behind her.

Brinn drew closer, imbibing the grandeur of the arch from all angles. She began to walk through, saying, “I wonder if it’s better on the inside. Let’s go!”

_Nope nope nope. It’s better out here, really. Fine, I guess I’ll waste some time._

“Do you want to know some of the history?” Storm asked, already mentally combining imagined history with the scraps of history she had been told.

“No thanks,” Brinn replied politely.

Memories. Faces. Voices. They all flashed through Storm’s mind. Her fingers frantically danced on the inside of her sleeve and fill with heat. She urged herself, _Think of something else._ Storm shifted her gaze to the pale walls that connected the arch to two other arches. The walls were about ten feet tall and Storm’s head reached up a little over halfway. Feeling short and a little intimidated, she pushed away her pensive thoughts, put on a perfect poker face, and turned to Brinn.

“We should go in, look around, and find a place to sleep for the night,” Storm said as her entire being internally screamed otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

Brinn decided to take the lead. She nudged her horse in the direction of the awaiting adventure. Excited energy was crackling in her blood as she stepped under the arch. The road was wide and cobbled. She followed it’s straight path for a time, but paused at a junction. She pulled over to the side and motioned for Storm to do the same. Although the streets here were somewhat quiet, she didn’t want to potentially hold up any sudden traffic.

Consulting Storm, Brinn asked, “Should we go left or right?”

Storm shrugged noncommittally in reply.

Brinn frowned, then announced that they would go left. She muttered something about having to make all the decisions, but was secretly glad that Storm was quiet. Quiet meant not complaining. As they turned onto the left road, Brinn looked around to see that the green grass stretching alongside both sides of the road was speckled with small, colorful flowers. She began identifying a few as ones she had seen in her books. The grass rippled as life itself was gently swaying in the breeze. This peaceful moment was soon cut short by another split in the road. 

Instead of stopping to get another useless reply, Brinn decided to simply go straight. As she saw houses made of stone and wood, her mind turned to the people who lived there. What they did. How they lived. She wondered about the people who lived in the few larger houses of the same style she passed as well.

Brinn tried to regain her focus as she followed the road, taking an awkwardly quick right. On this strange corner was an equally strange house. It was circular with a thatch roof, unlike all the other houses she had seen previously. As she puzzled the curiosities of the house, an old woman in foreign clothing with a large stomach crossed the road. Her bronze skin shone as she shuffled across the street. Brinn glanced up, but it was too late. Her horse skidded to a stop and was so spooked that it reared. In fear, the old woman toppled over. She was wearing a dark red wrap, her abnormally large stomach covered in embroidered orange fabric. Brinn shrieked as the fabric covering the woman’s torso opened. Brinn lept down and froze in confusion. She saw fruits of all different shapes and sizes tumbling out of the old woman’s clothing, falling to the ground. Storm hurried part Brinn, helping the old woman by beginning to pick up the fallen fruit. Brinn shook herself from her stupor and approached the woman. “Are you okay?” she stammered, “I-I’m very sorry.”

The old woman cackled. “I’m fine. This happens more than you’d expect.” She paused, then extended a hand to Brinn, “May the blessings of the Moon Goddess be upon you, traveler.” The woman’s dark eyes crinkled as she grinned, revealing an unfocused gaze and crows feet. After retrieving her fruit from Storm, she shuffled away, still smiling. Brinn shook her head, flabbergasted. She stood still, not sure how one is supposed to proceed after almost running over a possibly blind old woman. She looked to Storm, who was smirking back at her. They both stood in the sunset.

Brinn turned, began walking back to the horses, and asked, “What just happened?”

“A normal day in Lunaris, adventurer,” replied Storm.

Brinn climbed back onto her horse, trying not to ask endless questions about this strange place with peculiar people. Storm mounted her horse and slowly slid in front of Brinn, taking the lead. They rode for a short time until casually slowing off to the side at a small market square with a “T” shaped intersection. Storm glanced along the streets. 

To the left sat a temple with stalls and carts laden with vendor's wares. Various people milled around and riders passed by. The street to the right, Storm knew, would lead to an imports and exports building and, further on, an inn. A special inn. The memories began bubbling up like black, suffocating oil. Her heart raced. She could no longer feel the horse beneath her. Her vision blurred. The movements of the passersby twisted and morphed into quick flits, as quick as the deft movements of a skilled card dealer. The blackness was infecting her eyesight, slowing eating it away, turning light to dark. She felt something primal tense within her stomach. Then the darkness stopped. Storm felt something on her shoulder. She heard Brinn say something, although it was completely unintelligible. She realized her chest was aching. She remembered to breath slowly. Calmly. Her surroundings slowly came into focus. 

“Pardon?” Storm asked, carefully monitoring her own breathing.

“Come on! Look!” Brinn had tapped her and pointed at the scene across the intersection.


	4. Chapter 4

A man unlike any other that Brinn has seen stood across the courtyard. His black boots and dark green robe contrasted his greyish purple flesh. His long, silver hair was tied back, behind his long, pointed ears, flowing down his slender torso. Brinn could not see his face because he was facing another person in a fishmonger’s stall. 

Facing might not be the right word. Perhaps towering over, because their was quite a height difference. The purplish man was quite tall--taller than most humans Brinn knew. He was towering over a quite round, short --about the height of a ten year old, but the face of a forty year old-- person who was going red in the face from screaming at the purplish man. 

Brinn was snapped out of her analysis by a whisper in her ear. “Don’t make a scene,” Storm pointed to the road on the left, which went alongside the fishmonger’s stall.

“Let’s go, we can just sneak past,” Storm urged.

Brinn couldn’t take her eyes off the shouting match. Her mind regressed momentarily. A memory splashed to the surface.

_ Brinn, not yet seven, stood in doorway of her home upon arriving home from her class of the day. As she shut the door, clutching a parchment, the smile drained from her face. The ebullient notes from her teachers slid to the floor, forgotten. Brinn had only ever seen her mothers  both polished and ready for anything, and both with their hair up in neat, matching buns. She was completely shocked to see one of her mothers clutching fistfulls of her uncontained, disheveled hair as she argued incoherently. The sounds of smashing glass washed over her like a tidal wave. The sounds of shouting and sobbing crashed over her like a tsunami. Brinn stumbled back out the door, hid in a tree, cried, and didn’t come home til later that night.  It was the one time she ever saw her mothers fight. _

 

_ * _

 

_ While Brinn was frozen, Storm watched the fight get out of hand. She began to slowly turn back along the path they came from as she caught a glimpse of the purplish man reaching into a coat pocket. Storm heard the sound of a smack come from the vociferous pair as Brinn’s hand grasped her wrist.  _

 

_ * _

 

Watching the scene across the street, Brinn wanted to flee, hide, and cry. She was back to her quaking, terrified, seven year old self as she watched the shouting match escalate. Ignoring the frantic objections from Storm, she pulled Storm down the right street. 

Brinn hurried along the street as night began to fall. As the street went on, the buildings became more densely packed, most of which were the same height or shorter than the wall. They made their way to another intersection. Straight lead to more houses, but to the right was a large wooden building, much taller than the wall. Firelight shone out of the windows onto the large, fenced in area with a gate. The grass in the area was compacted by many crates stacked along the fenceline. Brinn turned toward the large building, then paused. She checked for the dark outline of Storm behind her. 

As Brinn turned back to head through the gate, Storm asked, “How about you go in there and ask for directions, while I stay out here to--,” she paused for a single beat, thinking of an excuse, “--guard the horses?” 

This seemed reasonable to Brinn, who has been told many times to be wary of thieves by her mothers. She opened the gate and began walking along a dirt path.

Although she was happy that the horses were safe, she wanted Storm by her side. In Kieran Village, Storm was known as somewhat of a smooth talker. She routinely convinced the baker to give her extra bread, her neighbors to not gossip about her lack of classes, and even her adoptive parents to let her break village rules. No one had evidence, sure. But the village gossip was mostly right, right?

Brinn tried to clear her mind as she reached the entrance. Her hand reached for the worn handle on the dark oak door with a window. Mustering the courage, she push the door open. 

Immediately, someone shouted, “Hey! We closed fifteen minutes ago. Scram!”

There was an awkward pause as Brinn didn’t know what to do. She peered down a short hallway which led into a very large, bright warehouse and saw many, many more crates inside. The wooden walls had papers pinned to them and the stone floors were cool. Brinn took a step forward. The floorboard gave a long, loud creak. Hearing this, the manager began storming to the entry hallway. 

“Vax, I get that you are done with work, but you can’t stay here after hours. I don’t have time for--,” She stopped as she turned the corner and saw Brinn.

“Who are you?” she demanded. 

 

*

 

Storm stood outside. She watched the dark grass sway lazily. Hoping to look busy, she opened up one of the saddle bags and began inventorying what was inside. She peered further down the street. It was quiet. The imports and exports building sat before her. Longing pooled in her stomach; she wished for the sense belonging she once had. Zephrin’s hearty laugh echoed through Storm’s mind, bringing her back to a time when Jervais and Zephrin, whose dark purple skin shone in the firelight, as well as Vax, whose small, round face was constantly beaming, had told stories late into the night. It was the first time Storm felt like she belonged. _Hmm. Does Jervais still live in that shabby building on the other side of the city? I could go right now and see. But poor Brinn, I’d be abandoning her and_ _the task. Do I stay here, where I already belong, or slowly make myself belong somewhere else? Kieran Village’s stupid rules. Having to gain favor through stupid little quests is only fit for dogs. But, do I still belong here? I mean_ , _things don’t last forever_. _Some things can never be undone._ Her mind shifted to woman inside of the building --a street-smart, matronly figure for her-- and wished Brinn could hold her own. Hoping she wouldn’t need it, she slipped a dagger from her bag into an internal, hidden coat pocket.

 

*

 

“Ummmm…” Brinn looked at the woman before her. Her shoulder length hair was wavy, many light grey strands braided with other varying shades of grey. Her face was harsh and commanding, with two bushy, dark brows contrasting her fair skin. She was wearing dark overalls with a light shirt. Her body was strongly built and a head taller than Brinn. Brinn remembered she had been asked a question.

The etiquette classes kicked in as she blurted, “Brinn. I’m Brinn.” She held out her hand in greeting. 

The woman ignored it. “What do you want?” She shifted her weight onto one hip.

“Some directions, please.” Brinn was trying to be assertive, yet polite, as her teachers had drilled into her. 

“I could use a little assistance to jog my memory.” The woman tapped her overall pocket and Brinn heard a little jingle. 

“Pardon?” Brinn asked with pure confusion. 

“Money.” She tapped her pocket again.

“Oh.” Brinn went red in the face. They certainly had never taught her how to handle  _ this _ situation in school! “I’m afraid my coin purse is in my saddle bag.”  She set her hand on the door handle.

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, “Fine. Where do you need to go?” 

Brinn’s hand slid back to her side. Her flush began to fade as she replied, “An inn.”

The woman looked Brnn straight in the eyes, leaned in, and asked, “What kind of inn?” 

“Umm, somewhere affordable that I could stay the night?”

Her brows furrowed. “But what  _ kind _ of inn?”

Brinn said, “I was sent to do a job, collect some money, and go home. I only need a cheap room with a bed for tonight. I’d rather spend my money on  _ other _ things, considering I might have some time to explore and have a bit of fun here. I don’t get to travel often.”

“Oh?” The woman’s face relaxed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I know the inn you are looking for. It’s not far from here. Anyway, what’s your specialty? Wait, let me guess. Roulette wheel?” 

Brinn’s sudden bewilderment must have shown, because the woman then corrected, “Maybe blackjack? Or poker?” 

Brinn internally panicked. She had lost the thread of conversation.

The woman leaned in, assayed her, then said, “Final guess... whore?”

Giving up on directions, Brinn just smiled and nodded.  _ It's like she’s speaking another language. _

The woman clapped her on the back, smiled, and nodded. “Not the most reputable work, but pays well. You know, I once knew this girl wh--”

Brinn interjected, “I’m sorry, but I should go check on my companion and make sure she is okay.” Brinn slowly backed away. Out the door. Into the night. Next to the gate. As she opened it, it made a loud creaking noise. Storm jumped and Brinn saw her hand fly to her pocket. 

“It’s just me. But you won’t believe what happened, ” she began recounting her tale in a hurried whisper, “...and then she kept asking me what  _ kind _ of inn I wanted and I have no idea what she meant and then…” 

Storm put a hand to her face with a long sigh. “I guess  _ I’ll _ have to do all the talking from now on considering you basically just told her that you were looking for a cheap room to gamble and put out in.” 

Brinn have an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “That’s not what I  _ meant _ !” 

Storm went on, “It’s fine. It’s fine. Just don’t go telling others, since both gambling and whoring are illegal here. She inn she was probably going to send you to is The Golem, a secret gambling den and whore house. They wear fancy masks and gamble their money away. A sordid affair, really.”

“How do you know that?” Brinn inquired.

Storm’s mind whirred. _ Make something up, real quick. Something simple.  _

“I read a book about it once. I asked the librarian  _ real _ nicely if I could go into the forbidden section.”

“What? He never let me do that and I was his most loyal customer!”

Storm lead the horses through the gate.”Anyway,” she asked, becoming deathly serious, “And this woman had grey, wavy, shaggy hair?” 

“Yes,” Brinn nodded.

“And she was built like a bull?”

“Yea, I suppose you could say so.”

Storm sighed again and handed the reigns to Brinn,“You hold these. I’ll go in.”  _ I”ll just go in, ask if she knows where Jervais is staying, and leave. It’ll be easy… if she doesn’t hate me. _

She fished out an opulent pocket watch, handed it to Brinn, and added, “If I don’t come out in seven minutes...run.” She began walking away, but paused and turned around. 

“Wait. Instead, look through a window. If things look--,” she paused again,”--bad, then run.” 

Brinn watched as Storm ran a hand through her hair over and over.

“Be careful,” Brinn squeaked as Storm walked to the door. With a swift pull and step, Storm went inside. 


	5. Chapter 5

Storm silently shut the door and snuck forward. Remembering the layout, she stepped over the creaky floorboard. She slipped around the corner and to the right. Her right arm naturally leaned on the wall and her left slumped lazily into a purple pocket.

The sound echoed in the warehouse as she loudly whispered in sing-song,“ I’m home.” 

About twenty feet away, the woman’s head snapped up from her desk as she locked eyes with Storm. Her jaw tightened. Storm’s fingers ran along the coat pocket. The tension was palpable, like lightning in the air before a storm. The woman sat, her face serious. Storm stood.

Both frozen for a split second, until Storm smirked and asked, “Have you forgotten about me  _ already _ , Midiga?”

Midiga raised an eyebrow and responded cooly, “How could I forget about Mrs. Midi’s Clockwork Kitten?” As she said it, her face hinted at a smile. She added, “Actually, you are just the person I wanted to see.” 

She slowly stood, then casually walked behind a nearby storage shelf. Storm tentatively walked up to the desk Midiga had been sitting at. They watched the older woman take a light, rickety chair from the shelf, set it down next to the sturdy, dark chair at the desk, and adjust the chairs so that they were facing each other. She gracefully lowered herself onto the nicer chair and sat up straight. Looking to Storm, she gave a warm smile and patted the chair next to her.

Storm attributed the smile to joy, but could not place the look in her eyes.  _ Was it also joy? _

“This isn’t like you. Is everything okay?” Storm inquired, still standing.

“Why yes, everything is good. Great, I might even venture,” she paused, patting the chair again. “Sit. We have much to catch up about.”

Uneasy, Storm complied; the chair creaked under her weight, which wasn’t much.

“Well, what have you been up too? Where have you traveled?” She asked. The woman stared into Storm’s dark eyes. Storm stared back for an instant, but then flicked her eyes away, studying the rest of Midiga’s body instead. 

Storm replied, perturbed, “Oh. You know...around. Doing...stuff, I guess. Where are Vax, Jervais, and Zephrin?”

Midiga’s wavy hair hung down as she leaned in, ”Haven’t seen Jervais in a while, but that is always how he has been. He comes and goes like a stray cat. The other two are off on an errand, but they don’t matter right now. Let’s just focus on  _ you. _ ” She coaxed, “Oh, come on. You can tell me.”

“I’d rather not,” Storm replied curtly as she moved to get up. With one swift kick, Midiga snapped the back legs of the chair. With a lurch, Storm fell prone. The larger woman stood, looming over her. Storm recognized the emotion in Midiga’s eyes. Malice.

  
  


“You have to tell me!” She harangued, her voice raw with emotion, “You can’t just leave us --the closest thing you’ll have to a  _ family _ \-- without warning or reason or--,” she paused and took a breath to compose herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. Storm, looking up, noticed the increased number of wrinkles on Midiga’s face since they had last met.

Midiga peered down and asked in a gruff, yet quieter voice, “Why did you leave us?”

Storm weighed the options. Three stood out. Storm could roll through Midiga’s legs and make a run for it. But if she did this, Midiga would find people to track her down. She could stab Midig, but that would be messy and it would devastate her “family.” Storm’s heart gave a pang of at the thought of her old friends at the funeral. 

Midiga’s face was stoical as she slowly turned toward her desk.

She muttered something, interrupting Storm’s thinking, but all she could hear was, “Sorry. I didn’t wanna have’ta do this… was decided...try...painless.” Midiga opened a desk drawer. Sticking her hand into it, she asked firmly, “Will you tell me? We both know that things can’t just resume like nothing happened.” She pulled from the drawer a large, curved blade with one sharp hook at the end. A gutting knife. Storm’s abdomen felt like a spring, building with heat and pressure. 

“I’m sorry Kitten, but you have become a liability. This is your last chance,” she stated in a hollow voice. 

The last option was the only choice… 

“Fine, I’ll talk. You would’ve run too if you were me.” 

Midiga set down the wicked knife as her face silently flooded with relief. This was short lived though, since she seized it again as Storm said coolly, “But first, let’s make a deal.”

There was a long pause as Midiga stood, knife in hand, thinking. She broke the silence as she inquired, “Go on.”

Storm feigned tranquility: “I’m going to stand up now. I  _ suggest,”  -- _ she felt tension within her release like a spring uncoiling-- ”you put the knife down and let me go free.”

As Storm spoke the word, Midiga felt her mind began to swirl with a magical fog. She had a strong compulsion to do what Storm said. Obeying, she felt the knife slip from her grasp. Storm stood. Midiga, recognizing the spell, began to fight the magic off, her stupor turning to rage. Her wrathful gaze turned to Storm and her strong legs quickly lessened the distance between them. She began lunging for the smaller person, but her thin, lithe body dodged narrowly. 

She roared, “How dare you use magic to deceive me!” as Storm began to bolt for the door. Midiga charged Storm and tackled her, knocking the wind out of both of them. Only five feet from the hallway, Storm was gasping and trying to wriggle free as Midiga wrapped her arms around Storms’ and clasped her hands behind Storm’s neck. As Storm struggled, Midiga only grappled tighter. She was old, but stronger than an ox. Storm stopped moving as her eyes watered and she thought her arms were being torn off. Midiga did not loosen her grip. The warehouse was silent, aside from the two heavily panting. As her immediate rage subsided, she realized that the Storm she remembered couldn’t do magic.

She leaned in and growled into her captive’s ear, “Who are you?”


	6. Chapter 6

At that moment, the door opened. From behind the corner, Brinn appeared. Her gaze was fixed straight at her eye level, but quickly shifted down to the scene on the floor.

She stammered, pocket watch in hand, “I-It’s okay. I’ll come back later.”

As she turned to depart, Midiga commanded, “Wait. I do not think your friend is who they say they are.” Brinn slowly poked her head back around the corner, eyes lit with curiosity.

“A mystery? She inquired. 

“I’ve been hearing rumors of people, creatures, shapeshifters, who have been causing some trouble,”  Midiga announced gravely. 

Brinn stared at her traveling companion and inquired, “What makes you think Storm is one of them?”

Midiga started, “Well, I--”

“Could you loosen your grip so my arms won’t snap off my perfectly innocent body?” Storm interjected.

Brinn rolled her eyes. Midiga commanded to Brinn, “Go to the third shelf on the left, the one that is near my desk. Bring back what’s on it.” Brinn did as she was told and laid a thick coil of rope on the ground. As Midiga stood up, there was a cry of pain from her captive. All of her  body weight was on her arms and neck since her legs were dangling. 

“Search her,” Midiga commanded once more. Brinn fumbled through the outside coat pockets, pants pockets, and small satchel at their side. She emerged with four daggers, a deck of cards, some small, mysterious capsules, coinage equivalent to about forty gold pieces, and random bits of fuzz. Midiga set her captive down, grumbled, “Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”, and let the captive go to grab the rope. Brinn positioned herself in front of the hallway, guarding it. 

“Maybe we should do a strip search before interrogation, just in case,” Midiga reasoned. Storm raised her hands in the air in a sign of surrender as her face flashed with horror. Midiga held the rope at her side.

“Guys, we don’t have much time to waste. Brinn and I have to eat, get an inn for the night, then escort some rich bitch to wherever,” Storm urged.

“But if we leave, you’ll run away,” Brinn protested.

Storm ran a hand through their hair and huffed, “I won’t run away because I’m  _ not _ an imposter.”

“Even if that’s true, you’ve run away before,” Midiga pointed out.

Storm threw her head aside and snorted. “Midiga. Seriously. Is there some way I could prove--”

“Magic.” Interrupted the woman, face stern. 

Storm sighed once more, but longer. The room fell silent. “Wow Midi,” she chuckled, “You’ve lost your edge. So let's review the facts. One: I left town for almost a year. Two: I have gained magical abilities,” she paused once more. “Did you not think those two were related?” Storm puzzled condescendingly. 

Midiga’s face went dark. “Did you use it in The Golem?”

Storm shrugged, “Lots of people use magic for personal gain. They just don’t get caught.”

Midiga held her head in her hands and was silent for a while before saying, “I guess I can get rid of your Clockwork Kitten mask. I should have known,” she stated in a dejected voice. She slowly got up and massaged her temples. “Does anyone know you are--were--the Clockwork Kitten?” 

Storm shook her head.

“Well, at least we have that. In the morning, I’ll get you a new mask and we can come up with a new name.”

Midiga turned to leave when Storm called out: “No.” 

Midiga waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll see about that in the morning.”

Brinn blurted in, “Can someone tell me what is going on? Who  _ are _ you people? How do you know each other?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where is gets spicy, but I tried to keep it tasteful.

Everyone looked at one another, tired and hungry. Midiga took the lead, striding up to Brinn and extending a hand. 

“Cassandra Midiga. I run a money making--”

“--gang,” interrupted Storm, grumbling. 

Midiga continued on while glaring at Storm, “We prefer ‘family.’” 

Since Brinn figured Midiga was finished, she shook her hand.

“I usually don’t shake hands, for safety reasons,” Midiga added, ”but you seem to be the nicest whore I’ve ever met. You couldn’t kill a fly.” 

Brinn started, offended, “I’m going to be an adventurer, I can do archery and I’m not a--”

“Brinn, she didn’t mean anything by it,” Storm said as she patted her on the shoulder.

Brinn, face red, apologized for overreacting, then she added, “I’m Brinn Elizabeth Kenfax from Kieran Village.”

Midiga just nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay,” Storm cracked her knuckles, “My turn for introductions. I’m Storm Ailfit. Gambled for Midi’s --ahem--’family’, but some people found out I can do magic. It may not sound serious, but if you are a high roller, when you’re gambling thousands of gold pieces, it can get you killed lickety split.” She made a slashing gesture across her neck. “So, I skipped town.” 

She were kept moving while speaking; whether it be pacing or just shifting her weight. 

“Ah, by the way,” Storm said, turning to Midiga, “I need my stuff back and you to tell Jervais that I’m in town when you see him next.” 

Finished, she scooped up her things, marched to the door and, opening it with a flourish, noted, “I do believe it is time for dinner.”

 

Brinn’s stomach growled in response. Storm gave Midiga a short wave as they left. As they both stepped into the yard once more, the night air sat heavier than before, clinging to their skin. While walking to the horses, Brinn stopped and sniffed the air. Storm looked at her quizzically. 

“It might rain,” Brinn declared as if she solved a riddle.

 

They both climbed onto their steeds and rode into the night. Storm took the lead as they slowly made their way back to the intersection where the people had been fighting. As they went down the left road, Brinn began to hear rushing water.

She turned to Storm, “Where are we going?”

“To get a room and a hot meal in the  _ nice _ part of town.”

Brinn approved as they both slowly meandered further into town on a larger road. The sound of water became louder, closer. The river was now in view. A pale stone bridge spanned about twenty feet and the lamppost’s glow seem to dance on the water below.

“Do you want to know what’s great about Lunaris?” Storm asked Brinn.

“Sure, why not.”

“Magic. They use it so many things. Even the lampposts. I’m pretty sure they have flame spells imbued in them so that they automatically light up when it’s dark.”

Noting this, Brinn tried to peer into the water, but all she could see was inky blackness. Storm started to softly whistle a simple tune as they trotted onto the bridge, riding up to the guard post where the bridge met land once more. Brinn silently followed. She watched as Storm greeted a tall, sandy blonde haired guard and asked for directions. He wore a simple, light blue tunic with what Brinn figured was the emblem of the city guard--a white star--on his jacket. He seemed about the same age as Storm, although he was thinner. While he looked rather handsome, his stubbly chin and bags under his eyes hinted at his profession --night watch guard. As Brinn approached, the two said their goodbyes. Storm turned around, announcing the directions to the wildest tavern in town--take two rights, then look for the sign that says “The Quick Boat Bar.” The best part, Storm remarked, was that it was just across the street from an inn.

They took off at a faster pace, hungry to find the bar. They were also hungry for food. The road was close to the river, enough for Brinn to be mesmerized. It’s turbulent surface surged, gurgled, and gushed. She could watch it forever.  _ Wow. The biggest river we have in Kieran Village looks like a rivulet in comparison. I could wade through that one as a child, but I might drown if I try to swim in this one, even as a young adult.  _ Her view was soon obstructed by buildings as they journeyed along the road. The street was illuminated by lampposts and faint moonlight. Most of the shops, workplaces, houses, and restaurants were dark, leaving only the occasional pub and tavern to be of service. Storm spotted a sign in front of a bustling bar. People milled about, talking and laughing. A rather tipsy crew waved with bright smiles as the two approached. As Storm dismounted and began tethering up her horse, Storm and Brinn could hear the faint thrums of music, cheers, and clashes of tankards. Storm strode up to the sturdy oak door with Brinn in tow. With a flourish, she opened the door for her. 

Brinn stepped inside. The door opened into a large tavern that was about fifty feet long and forty feet wide. People were everywhere. Bass heavy music was thumping. Brinn froze for a moment with sensory overload. There was the smell of food. And some sweat. And maybe a little vomit? There were flashing lights. She realized that there was a stage, about ten feet wide, attached to the wall on the left side of the room. On said stage was a suspiciously large woman with heavy makeup and a revealing outfit gyrating to the music. Colorful lights coming from a sparkly, enchanted sphere hanging from the ceiling were flashing all around. Many people were cheering and drinking. The woman on stage was shaking her wavy, blond hair as she jived. Nearby, a large group of performers, bards, as one might call them, were playing their hearts out. 

A light shove from Storm pulled Brinn’s attention back to her. Storm looked for seats; on either side of the door sat normal tables with padded benches, but they were full. In the middle of the room, there were three long tables that ran perpendicular to the stage. Most of the patrons  congregated here. They were talking, laughing, eating, and watching the performer on stage. Hugging the wall opposite the stage, there were more normal tables which were not occupied. Finally, there was a bar along the wall opposite the doorway. There must have been a kitchen behind that wall because servers carrying plates went through doors on either side of the bar.

Storm grabbed Brinn’s hand. Carefully winding their way through the mass of people, Storm led Brinn to the booth closest to the bar. Brinn shifted her weight on the bench. Though it was padded, she did not feel comfortable. Never before had she been packed into a space with so many other people. Meanwhile, Storm was loving the energetic vibe of the place. Bopping her head to the beat, she waved over a serving girl. The woman’s red skirt swayed as she stopped at the table, slapping down some parchment. She was of average height with long, brown, wild hair. 

Her pale face was full of warmth as she asked, “What’ll you be having to drink tonight? Ale, beer, water, wine?” Her large brown eyes gazed toward Storm, who then asked for a simple beer. 

When she turned to Brinn, there was a long pause before she asked, “Water?”

The waitress replied, “A beer and a water. Comin’ right up,” before she rushed away.

Brinn read the paper, which listed food, but couldn’t remember what it said a moment later. She noticed that the song playing had changed and was now slower. She was beginning to like-- A drunken man accidentally bumped into their table, rocking it. He apologised and waddled off. Brinn, sighing, looked over the paper once more.

Giving up, she muttered to Storm, “Just get me one of whatever you’re having.”

“Can do.” Storm leaned in, offering a hand, “Would you like to dance?” 

“No thanks,” replied Brinn,”My ballroom dancing skills don’t exactly align with this...style of establishment. But, you can go dance with other people if you’d like.”

She nodded as Brinn turned to look at the stage. The suspiciously large woman was now moving slowly and suggestively--in noticeably less clothing-- to a slow jazz number. Brinn studied the way she moved. The woman on stage moved her hips, rolling them hypnotizingly as her hands explored her own body. One of her hands slid down her neck and began squeezing her breast, the other hand teasingly tracing the curves of her body as she slowly spread her legs and-- Brinn tugged at her collar, realizing how warm the room felt.

Averting her gaze, she recognized someone at the bar. He was sitting along  the wall, practically in a corner. He sat alone, slumped. His long, silver hair hung around him and his dark green robe was disheveled. 

Overcome with curiosity, Brinn turned to Storm, “Isn’t that the guy we saw at that stand near the temple? He looks awfully similar,” she said, pointing to the man at the bar.

“Brinn!” Storm reprimanded,” Are you saying that all Drow look the same? Racist! I doubt he-- … Well, his clothing actually does look very familiar.”

Brinn began to stand. “You order the food while I go talk to him.”

Storm began to stand as well.  “Woah woah woah. I’m supposed to be the outgoing, social one and, and… You shouldn’t be butting into other’s business,” Storm warned, “It’ll get you killed in this city.”

“But why did we come to the city?” Brinn asked.

“To escort a duchess and get some money?”

“No. To adventure. I’ll go over there. You stay here.”

Storm flopped back into her seat.

And off Brinn went. 

 

 

As she made her way into the less crowded part of the tavern, she felt a slight relief wash over her. She headed towards the silver haired man slumped at the long, oak bar and sat down on a stool next to him. 

The bartender, a short man with bright green hair, raised his eyebrows at her as if to say, what’re you hanging around  _ him _ for? You could do better.

Brinn was flattered, but gave a slight wave of her hand in dismissal. 

“Purely business,” she stated.

The bartender shrugged, then asked, “What can I get for you, little lady?”

“I wouldn’t like anything, but can I get something for him?” she asked, gesturing to the drow.

“Oh he has already had  _ more _ than enough to drink tonight.” He nudged him saying, “Isn’t that right, pal?” 

The drow man simply raised his half filled glass, silently asking for more. 

The bartender shook his head with mock sadness.

Before turning away, the bartender added, “Well, if you need anything little lady, just call for Rider and I’ll be there in a jiff.”

Brinn nodded.

She began to think of a way to start a conversation with the man next to her. Her concentration was soon broken as she heard many cheers and saw the woman on stage curtsy with a coquettish grin. Brinn’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

She heard the drow man grumble something. 

“Pardon?” Brinn asked.

He only mumbled in reply.

“Well,” Brinn began, “I’m Brinn. And who might you--”

“Torrelrith,” he interrupted before taking a long swig from his glass. He slammed it down hard and mocked, “‘Go to  _ Lunaris’ _ they said. ‘It will be  _ fun’ _ they said.”

“So I take it you aren’t from around here?”

“I’m from the Alani enclave. Here on emissary work.” His words were somewhat slurred, but spoken carefully and with determination. 

“Enclave? Where is that?” Brinn’s eyes went wide with intrigue. 

Torrelrith burped as he pointed at the floor. “Far far down, underground.” He grumbled, putting his hand into his pocket, “Wish I was there now.” 

The images of giant, man-eating insects with millions of legs and giant, poisonous stingers, mandibles, and other implements of destruction surfaced from long forgotten story books. Brinn had read a diary from a human man who ventured down and found enclaves of strange creatures who stole children and waged war on other races. She recalled all of the stories she had heard. None of them were pleasant.

“So,” Brinn ventured, “where you come from, it’s dangerous, right? Aren’t there wars, slavers, monsters, and all other kinds of dangers?”

“Ha! No less dangerous than up here. If anything, I’ve gotten worse treatment here than I ever did back home.”

“What?” Brinn asked in astonishment, “That can’t be true! We have kings and guards and protectors of goodness! It’s a lawless, evil ridden cesspool down there.”

“You...you  _ surface dweller _ !” He spat the slurred words with malice as he ineffectually tried to lurch to his feet.

Brinn paused. Her face broke into a slight smile as she giggled, “It’s true. I live on the surface. I’m sorry, I may have judged your home too quickly. Please tell me what it is like.”

Torrelrith stared at her dumbly. He sat still for a moment, his intoxicated brain having trouble grasping the turn of events. He had been raring to fight. Now, his limbs felt leaden. 

“And,” Brinn added, “If you tell me who has wronged you here, I can report it to the authorities. She extended her hand to Torrelrith’s cheek, where a large bruise was darkening against his purple skin. She asked, “What happened?” 

Torrelrith looked at his hands. “Fish,” he replied.

Brinn, retracting her hand, wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly, so she asked again.

Torrelrith, suddenly sheepish, mumbled, “A woman hit me with a fish.”

Brinn was stunned until she recalled the scene in the market square.  _ So that is what that noise was. _

“Wait, why?”

“I acted impulsively.” He spoke slowly and only slightly slurred after carefully collecting his thoughts. “I was upset and moved quickly. Many surface dwellers don’t trust Drow. The vendor woman, from whom I wanted the fish, didn’t want to sell to me. Things got heated. I reached into my coat pocket for my gold, but she must have thought I was going to hurt her. I promise I wasn’t going to.” He looked sullenly at Brinn, his red pupils begging her to believe him. 

“It’ll be okay.” Brinn patted him on the shoulder.

“No it won’t. I’ve been stranded in this terrible city. I don’t know anyone--well, I can’t find the one person  _ I do _ know.”

“Have they left you?”

“Yes. I was supposed to meet him at a specific temple, but he never showed up. His name is Jervais Alani and he was supposed to help me meet with drow leaders. It is my job as emissary of the Alani enclave.”

“That name…” Brinn pondered. “That name sounds familiar. I’ve heard so many--too many-- names today.”

Torrelrith’s eyes lit up. He leaned in with excitement. “You know him? Can you lead me to him? I must fulfill my duty.”

Brinn pushed him back, for his rank, alcoholic breath was too much to handle. She gave him a little pat on the shoulder.

“Wait here,” she said as got up from the bar. 

Walking back to their table, Brinn gave a little wave to Storm. 

“How was your ‘adventure?’” asked Storm, grinning.

“Well, I think I found a mystery,” replied Brinn, grinning equally as wide.

“Have some as a congratulations while you tell me about it.” Storm slid a half eaten plate of cooked fish across the table.

“Well, what happened was --Wow this fish is actually really good, “ Brinn remarked.

“Catch of the day. Lunaris has way better food than Kieran Village, I swear it.”

“Nothing can beat a home cooked meal,” exclaimed Brinn.

“Whatever! Whatever! Just tell me about the mystery!”

“Okay. Did you mention a guy names Jervais Alani?”   
“Yes,” Storm’s fingers drummed the table nervously. “Why?”

“The drow guy over there,” Brinn pointed behind her, towards the bar. “His name is Torrelrith and he apparently knows this Jervais person.”

Storm’s eyes danced with a mixture of nervousness, mischief, and curiosity. 

“Does he know where Jervais is?” Storm asked, trying to contain her excitement. 

“No. That’s the problem.”

Storm’s eyes changed, nervousness and worry filling them.

“We need to -- I mean, we should-- find him.”

“Maybe Torrelrith can help us,” ventured Brinn.

“Maybe. I know a few of Jervais’ favorite spots to hang out, so we should check those first. Midiga should get word to me if she sees him.”

“Okay. Well, we will have to wait until tomorrow to start the search. It’s too dark and I’m ready for bed,” Brinn said, pushing the finished plate of fish to the center of the table and yawning.

Storm looked slightly dismayed, so Brinn took both of her hands into hers.

“It’ll be okay. I’m sure Jervais is just fine.”

“You’re right. He has always been the kind to come and go as he pleases. He is probably just off having fun somewhere.” Storm gave a sigh as her face returned to calm.

“How do you know him anyway?” Brinn smiled warmly.

Storm gave a chuckle. “It’s a looong story. I’ll tell you someday. Today is not that day.”

She got up and put a gold piece onto the table. 

“You go say goodbye to Torrelrith while I get us a room in the inn. I’ll be just across the street.” 

With a wave, the two went in seperate directions. 


	8. Chapter 8

The Silent Shipmate Inn, although being across the street from The Quick Boat Bar, lived up to its name. Storm’s footsteps were almost imperceptible as she strode up to the counter.

“A room for the night, please,” she told the dark haired man behind the desk.

“One bed or two, Miss?”

Storm paused for a moment, pondering the myriad of ways the night could play out. A yawn, long cultivated from the day of travel, crept out of her mouth.

“Two,” she said finally.

  
  


*****

 

Storm welcomed Brinn into their comfortably furnished room. It only had two beds, a simple table with a lit candle on it, and a couple of chairs, but it certainly beat sleeping in a stable. Both kicked off their boots in unison, although with different results. Brinn’s landed neatly at the end of her bed, while Storm’s went flying, landing however and wherever they pleased. 

Brinn looked about the room. “Where may I change into my sleeping clothes?”

Storm gave a wicked grin. “Right here.”

Brinn blushed slightly at the thought of undressing in front of another girl. Her mind pictured a similar situation, but with a beautifully blonde girl—about her age— in the place of Storm. The blonde was wearing some sort of sheer dress and as she slipped it down—

—Storm’s laughter broke her daydream. 

“The look of your face,” she roared amid a flurry of laughs. 

“I promise I was kidding. There is a bathroom down the hall.” Storm beamed as she gestured to the door. 

Flustered and looking at the ground, Brinn shuffled to the door with clothing in hand. 

  
  


*

  
  


Storm took off her jacket and laid it on the closest chair.  _ Wow. Brinn is so entertaining when confused like that. She is so gullible and innocent. _ Storm pondered the plethora of tricks she could play on Brinn when she got back.  _ Wait. While they would all be hilarious, they might make Brinn run away. That wouldn’t leave me in an advantageous spot. Just complete a few quests, please my adoptive father, and have everyone love me again. How hard can it be? We shall see...we shall see. _

  
  


_ * _

  
  


Brinn jumped in surprise when she saw Storm. Storm was lying face down on her bed in nothing but her undergarments. Her undergarments were arguably the strangest thing about her: on top, she was wearing a garment that compressed her chest tightly and, on her bottom, sat a pair of baggy shorts. 

Her gaze perplexedly fixed upon Storm, Brinn let the door slam behind her. With catlike reflexes, Storm swung around, dagger drawn and alert.

They both stared at each other, standing still.

“Wha—“ they both began to ask.

“You go first,” Brinn offered as she eyed up the weapon in her friend’s hand.

“Fine. I was falling asleep and the door slammed. What happened?” Storm lowered the dagger, realizing she was free of immediate danger.

“Umm,” Brinn stammered. “I saw you.” She crept forward before poking Storm in the chest, asking, “What is this? 

“Well,” Storm swatted her hand away. “That’s my chest.”

“Why are your sleeping clothes so strange?” Brinn asked, truly confused.

“Are you asking why I’m not dressed like you?” Storm asked in reply, gesturing to Brinn’s simple nightgown.

Brinn nodded, glancing at Storm’s shorts once again.

“I don’t really associate with one gender. For myself, I’d rather have bread rolls than gender roles, you know? You can use he, she, they, or whatever pronouns you want when referring to me. It doesn’t matter”

Storm walked back to her bed, gently slipping the dagger back under her pillow.

“They?” Brinn asked, “As a singular pronoun?”

“Yup. It’s gender neutral. I promise you’ve used it before when referring to a person before you know their gender. It’s easier in verbal communication. It can work in written things as well, but it can get a little tricky.”

“Oh. Okay,” Brinn said sheepishly, “I’m sorry for getting so excitable about it. I just figured you were a normal girl.”

“Heh. I’m normal enough for my liking.”

Brinn blew out the candle that lit the room, then silently walked to her bed.

“Good night,” Storm called.

“Good night… and I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine. You’re just not used to the city yet. We gotta break all of your small town stereotypes, one day at a time. It’s just fine. Good night.”


	9. Chapter 9

Brinn awoke to the sound of street vendors and travelers, much to her surprise. She stood slowly. Cracking her back, she shuffled towards the window. Even as the sun just peeked over the stone walls, people were about. 

The shook herself awake in this unfamiliar place. This was not her bedroom or her home or her town. She couldn’t hear the sound of birds outside her window, only people. A feeling of homesickness crept into her chest.

She walked over to her bed once more, seeking comfort for her aching heart. Pausing, she stood beside it. Brinn shook her head. “Laying in bed won’t get you very far. Better to start the day while it is still young,” one of her mothers’ voice chimed inside her head.

Her gaze slid to the bed next to hers. Lying with a left arm and a right leg sticking out at odd angles, Storm was dead asleep. 

With a sigh, Brinn began her morning routine. Mouth clean, face washed, hair brushed and braided, clean dress buttoned up, and boots laced, Brinn was ready for the day. And breakfast. Her stomach growled impatiently as her companion lay in the exact same sleeping position as before. 

“Storm. Wake uuuuup,” Brinn called to Storm.

It didn’t seem very effective. Storm remained still.

“Storm! It’s morning!” Brinn called, this time laying a hand on Storm’s shoulder and giving it a shake.

Without opening her eyes, Storm grumbled, “Five more minutes,” and rolled over.

Brinn’s foot tapped impatiently. The sun had risen in the sky by at least the width of her thumb since she awoke. They were burning daylight.

“If I go buy breakfast, then you’ll be ready by the time I get back. Deal?”

A muffled reply came from the bed: “And that includes food for me?”

Brinn paused, then relented. “Fine.”

Blankets flew as Storm sat up at lightning speed. “Get me a coffee and a steak and… Oh! Something sweet, too, like some sort of sweet bread.” 

“Did you really just ask for steak? For  _ breakfast? _ ” Brinn asked, incredulous. She had been planning to buy a simple loaf of bread and a couple of apples to share.

“I need my meaty intake for the day, you know? Plus, I mean, you were planning to pay, right?” Storm laughed .

Brinn sighed, but she couldn’t help but break into a smile. 

With a small roll of her eyes, she replied, “I’ll see what I can find. Just be ready by the time I get back.”

With that, Brinn scooped up her bag and strolled out the door. 

 

*

 

The door closed. Immediately, Storm flopped back into bed. With a mighty yawn, she kicked her legs and stretched her arms. 

“Why the hell do people get up this early?” Storm grumbled into the empty room.

Groggily, she rolled out of bed and checked the locations of her daggers: a couple in her coat, one in her satchel, one in her boot, and a couple hidden around the room.  _ Just in case. _ These precautions were, of course, not in fear of Brinn. There are a myriad of dangers that come along with returning to city that one once escaped from. 

Satisfied with their placement, Storm left the daggers and began getting ready for the day. She slipped on a pair of loose pants and a sleeveless shirt. Gingerly, she placed a bar through the top of her ear, piercing the lobe in two places. Fiddling with the end caps, her mind filled as she recalled yesterday’s events. 

“Okay, so Midiga doesn’t hate me, but she expects me to go back to gambling for her. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I want to do something and be proud of it _for once_. Anyway, she hasn’t seen Jervais for a while. Apparently he was supposed to meet up with that drow from the Alani enclave. Torrelsmitch or whatever. Jervais could be in trouble,” Storm let her thoughts flow from her mouth as she sat on her bed. Once the piercing was fastened, she laid back and stretched her arms. 

“Oh Jervais,” she sighed. “I hope you are doing okay. Our goodbyes were quick, fleeting, unsatisfying.” Storm brought her legs to her chest, her mind replaying wondrous memories. His arms around Storm, gently swaying. The long conversations overflowing with truth. Sharing secrets that no one else ever knew. Hugs that were fierce and loving and calming. She fell into a calm, blissful sleep.


End file.
